


Mix And Match

by utsushiame



Category: NG (Visual Novel)
Genre: Bickering, Canon-Typical Violence, Counted Word Fic, Developing Relationship, Drabble Sequence, Idiots in Love, Multi, Mutual Pining, No Spoilers, Protectiveness, Referenced murder, Spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21599086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utsushiame/pseuds/utsushiame
Summary: Some paths cross and then split apart. Others never meet in the first place. And then some still will rush ahead and leave others behind.Sometimes, though, three paths can become so intertwined that they can't help but arrive at the same point.
Relationships: Amanome Seiji/Hazuki Kaoru/Kijima Akira
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66





	Mix And Match

**Author's Note:**

> Gonna start work on something that ended up longer than intended, so I had fun with something short beforehand.

The first time that Kaoru had heard Kijima laugh- _really_ laugh, not a mirthful huff of air alongside a hidden smirk- she had taken him and Amanome out for a meal after a gruelling, but successful, recording session.

“Akira,” Amanome had said, sternly sounding out the vowels of his name, “you're not at your local ramen place. Show some manners, please.”

“Why do you care?” Kijima had shot back, refusing to straighten up from his slump.

“I'm the one who has to be seen with you. People judge you by your company as much as they do your appearance, y’know.”

“Nobody's looking our way though…”

“Come on, you two.” Kaoru had butted in, snapping her menu shut to catch their attention. “Let's just enjoy being three friends out for a meal, alright? No worrying about our reputations.”

Amanome had muttered something under his breath- about Kijima’s 'reputation’, or lack thereof- and got an elbow to his ribs for his trouble. Unbeknownst to them, their conversation had caught the attention of an eavesdropper, who made the decision to drop in while the boys mulled over their menus.

The spider and its silken thread went unnoticed until it'd successfully roped down from the ceiling, its eight legs unfurling to find purchase on the back of Amanome’s slender neck. With a shriek that was a pitch or two higher than expected, Amanome had swerved around and batted out towards what he had thought- but refused to tell the other two- was one of the spirits that had been plaguing them the past month or two.

Both of them had stared at Amanome, and then it had happened- a sudden, sharp snigger, Kijima’s mouth curling up into a grin that he quickly hid with his hand. “What was that about keeping appearances?”

“S-Shut up.” Amanome retorted weakly, a shiver unconsciously running through him as he massaged his neck. Though he was frowning, Kaoru could see a fondness in his eyes that she instantly related to. Both of them had noticed Kijima laughing, and both of them had thought the same thing.

It was beautiful.

* * *

One day, Amanome came into school with a mottled black eye.

Akira’s first reactions were anger and concern, which were to be expected, and then betrayal, which was not. If Amanome had a problem to be solved physically, he called Akira about it. That had been their routine for some ten-odd years now, and like the rotation of the sun it never failed.

He attempted to temper himself before approaching his friend. Maybe, for some reason, Amanome couldn't talk about it- but then why hadn't he tried to cover it up? Maybe it only happened that morning, and he was coming in now to report to- nope, he was settling down at his own desk, carefree as could be.

The irritation wasn't leaving. Akira swallowed it down as best he could and then made his way over, dumping himself in the seat nearest Amanome- not like anyone in the class could budge him if he didn't want to move. “Oi, what happened?”

Amanome’s brows raised, his eyes blank and confused for the second it took him to remember his appearance. His fingers traced the bruise, his mouth forming into a frown. “Ahh, that idiot Tsukomi.” He made no attempt to hide his annoyance, which was good, even if Akira had no idea who he was talking about. “Barged into my pops office while I was heading out. Smacked the door right into me.”

…Oh. Akira was so used to the dangers in Amanome’s life that a mundane accident hadn't even crossed his mind. He berated himself for it as Amanome’s lips pulled into a familiar grin. “Well, it was worth it to watch him beg for his life afterwards.”

“Right.” Like usual, it was hard to tell how serious Amanome was being. Regardless, he seemed like himself. Akira’s breath released in a relieved huff. “Okay then.”

Of course, Amanome wouldn't let him off the hook that easily. A single, intense scrutiny was all he needed, his smirk taking on a teasing air. “Hey, don't be disappointed. I'm sure you'll get the chance to be my white knight soon.”

“…Shut up.”

* * *

The Kuchisake-onna. A spirit famed for slitting the mouths of her victims- as had been the fate of three men over the past fortnight, all with ties to the Yakuza. Seiji had tried to avoid spirits, but they had simply come to him.

That was how he and Hazuki found themselves outside an ikazaya frequented by one of the victims. Akira was en route, and Seiji didn't want to enter without him- this particular victim was from a rivalling branch, and Seiji wanted some muscle on his side before he nosed into their business.

Hazuki, meanwhile, had no such reservations.

“What’re you-” Seiji hissed, cut off by a wave of Hazuki’s hand as she pushed the door open. Seiji ducked away, cursing under his breath as he heard Hazuki offer a cheery greeting to the patrons. Did that girl have no sense of self-preservation? The longer that Seiji knew her, the more he began to doubt it.

Well, he wasn't putting his head on the chopping block for her sake. He continued to wait outside, panic simmering down into an aching worry. They wouldn't do anything to her in a restaurant during the day, but…

The door opened again, and Seiji let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. “What were you thinking?” he asked immediately, as Hazuki skipped out to meet him.

Her smile was innocent, but she couldn't hide the mischief in her eyes. Not from someone like Seiji. “I was thinking that I recognised a Momo Kuruse fan from my last concert. He didn't want his friends knowing about his guilty pleasure, so he didn't mind dropping some info on me so I'd leave. You know an ‘Okiura Takeshi’?”

“My men will, but…” It was a lot to take in suddenly. Seiji took a second, processed what had happened, and, to his surprise, felt something like pride burn in his chest. It was just so… devious a thing for their cute idol to do. “Hm. I might have to revise my opinion of you.”

“Careful,” Hazuki teased with a wink, “you might fall in love.”

* * *

“Big bro,” Ami said, her eyes wide and knowing in that peculiar way that only children could manage. “Do you not like Momo?”

Akira paused in his reading, eyes slipping away from an examination of a north-south choke and over to Ami. “…I'm not a fan, but I don't hate her or anything.”

She pouted. “You're lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what was I just talking about?”

A great question. Akira flung his mind back to the beginning of the conversation. Ami had spotted something about Momo in the magazine she’d bought at the store, and gone off on some wild tangent. Akira had stopped paying attention about twenty seconds in. Had it been about one of Momo’s concerts? An acting role?

When the answer wasn't forthcoming, Akira sighed and shrugged. “I don't know. But my attention was on my own thing.” He rustled the fighting mag. “I don't hate listening about her.”

“You phase out like that _every_ time I talk about her.”

“I do no-”

One look at Ami’s puffed-out cheeks and Akira knew he wasn't winning this argument. He knew better than anyone that Ami’s stubborn streak matched his own, and arguing so fiercely against a kid- his cousin no less- just made him feel like a bully.

“Do you not like Kaoru either?” Ami asked, her confrontational tone deflating into something that was just… sad. Fearful. Of course she wouldn't want her family at odds with her friends.

“No, hey…” Running a hand through his already unruly hair, Akira tried again, this time forcing himself to sound softer. “Alright, I don't care about Momo, but I'm fine with Hazuki. Promise.”

He watched hope rekindle in Ami’s eyes, quickly followed by curiosity. “But why don't you like Momo?”

How to explain it? That Momo felt insincere. That when Hazuki donned the silver hair and tattoo, she stopped seeming like herself. That she, and everyone, seemed to view Momo as the superior personality, which grated his nerves.

After a long moment of mulling over his words, Akira settled on a reply that was short and simple: “She's not Hazuki.”

* * *

Lately, Kaoru had been running out of excuses to drop by Kijima’s apartment for more than a few minutes at a time. Not that she needed a reason to see her friend- no, Kijima was the one who struggled to believe that people could just hang out without some established purpose to it.

He was so… formal like that. It was annoying. Charming, sometimes, but mostly annoying. She wondered, not for the first time, why she kept coming back to someone so obstinately anti-social. It wasn't just for his supernatural ability, it'd been long enough for Kaoru to admit that to herself. No, she felt unfulfilled somehow if she went too long without checking up on her friends.

Maybe this was what friendship was _supposed_ to be like? Most of her relations were skewed by her status as an idol, and one of her few ‘genuine’ friends had met a grisly end at Kakuya’s hands.

Maybe, just maybe, that had messed Kaoru up a little.

As she climbed the apartment steps, she was surprised to hear a tune that was as familiar to her as her own hand; she had been the first to sing it, after all. This singer was male, but “Wander Rabbits” didn't sound any less gentle coming from him. Kaoru paused on the step, transfixed by the melodic voice as it grew steadily louder, approaching her from the upper floor, until its owner turned the building’s corner and-

“Amanome!”

“Oh, Hazuki. Sing of the devil…” With a smirk on his face that made it hard to tell whether he was insulting her or not, Amanome tipped his head in greeting, pausing only briefly before skirting around her and making his way down the stairs. “A secret rendezvous with Akira, hm? I won't keep you waiting.”

Kaoru flushed. “Just what are you implying..?”

Amanome chuckled but didn't answer, the song soon gracing his lips once more. Hazuki nibbled her own lip, not sure what disconcerted her more; that Amanome’s “Wander Rabbits” _almost_ sounded as good as hers, or that she had enjoyed listening to it so much.

* * *

As contrary as it may seem, there was something graceful about unrestrained violence.

A body pushed to its absolute limit, stripped of societal rules that would hold it back. A heart that pumped faster and faster, providing oxygen to the limbs, creating a well-oiled machine operating at maximum capacity. A person made into a beast, communicating not with words but with tooth and fang.

And no-one exemplified such grace more than Akira Kijima.

Looking at him now, one wouldn't guess that he'd been raised in poverty with no formal training. Every action he took was purposeful, every step calculated. It took all of Seiji’s concentration just to keep up, his eyes darting to and fro as Akira would duck one way, feint to the other, his fists hitting their mark with a satisfying, sickening _thump_ every time. What had felt like a group of a dozen men had been halved, and then halved again, some knocked unconscious while others wisely decided to take their leave.

They never stopped coming. No matter how many warnings were issued, or how many examples were made, there'd always be a new crowd of upstarts looking to start something with the Yakuza kid. Human nature was as cyclical as it was stupid.

As Seiji watched the last of the men crumple to the ground, ribs cracked and lungs depleted by a swift one-two punch to the chest, Seiji couldn't say he terribly minded the attention.

Akira now stood triumphant, his breathing heavy but measured. Sweat racked his lithe frame, and blood dripped from his gloved knuckles. His eyes locked onto Seiji, black with fury and sharp with adrenaline.

It sent a shiver down Seiji’s spine.

He pushed off from the wall, giving his friend a small round of applause as he picked his way over the unconscious bodies. For the briefest of moments, Akira’s body tensed, his instincts telling him to fight but his mind reigning him back. He'd never fight Seiji, his friend, at least not with that sort of fire in his eyes.

It was almost a shame. The flames were so alluring.

* * *

“You like Kijima.”

It was a statement, not a question. Both of them were at the gym, observers as the boy in question practised his moves against a punching bag, but now Seiji glanced at Kaoru with practised nonchalance. “I would hope so. We _are_ friends.”

“But you want to be more than that.” She replied, and Seiji couldn't help but twitch at how surprisingly deep it managed to cut.

She looked triumphant at that, so he shot back. “’It takes one to know one,’ isn't that how the saying goes?”

She smiled, sadly. It made his counterattack feel hollow. “And what's between us…” she continued, finger trailing hesitantly from him to her. “I don't think that's just friendship either.”

Seiji opened his mouth, realised he had no words to offer, and shut it again. It was refreshing, honestly, to have Kaoru lay it all out, but at the same time it was throwing him for a loop.

“Sorry.” Kaoru wrung her hands self-consciously. “I just keep… noticing it, y’know? And the longer it goes on, the harder it is to bear. It’s making me loopy.”

He couldn't stop the bitter chuckle that escaped him. “Try putting up with it for… has to be five years now?”

“Wow. That long?”

“If not longer.” Seiji turned his attention back to Akira. He knew he'd just get angry if he saw any pity in her eyes. “Not that it's hard to keep secret. The guy’s a complete idiot, he hasn't noticed a thing.”

“I wonder…” Kaoru had seen Akira when Seiji wasn't around. Still blunt, still stand-offish, but when he had his childhood friend beside him, it was like a layer was peeled back. Likewise, Seiji had noticed a change in his friend ever since Kaoru joined them. It was subtle, but every now and then she'd tease out a side of him that was almost… playful.

Kaoru leaned back on the bench, her gaze thoughtful as she turned it skywards. “I think we’re all complete idiots.”

Seiji watched the punching bag sway from Akira’s blows, and chuckled. “Can't argue with that.”


End file.
